Darker Desires
by ficcychick
Summary: I don't generally do smut-ever-but things got a little dark. Be warned, this isn't just a sexfic, and Jareth isn't a creature of romance. Rated M for language and adult situations.
1. Awakening

OK, so this is the first time I've written smut, for this or any other fandom. I am going to say up front that this is kind of dark, so don't read on if you aren't prepared to be a little taken aback. Swears, smut and Dark!Jareth all make an appearance.

Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth etc. etc.

The room was dark, that was the first thing besides the ache behind her eyes that Sarah noticed when she came to. The second was that her arms were bound, it seemed with leather straps, pulling her against a stone or brick wall. Her shoulders ached with the strain of having held her body weight while she had been unconscious, yet now as she struggled to stand she realized how cold the floor was. She barely felt the sting as she stepped on a sharp stone that was beneath her, so numb were her feet.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the small amount of light in the cell, she noticed that the clothes she had been wearing were gone, a simple cotton shift in their place. The gown was of a rough homespun cloth that scratched at her skin with a million tiny, jagged little nails, a sharp contrast to the pull of the smooth, cold leather on her wrists. She had no recollection of how she had come to this place, and as she struggled to remember, she could only see a hazy silhouette in her mind.

She called out a tentative "Hello," not really expecting an answer. She had seen enough movies to realize that usually when women were in this predicament, anyone who was within hearing distance was usually not very likely or willing to help them out of it. Again, she struggled to remember—the last thing she knew for sure was that she had been on her way to meet Alex in the park. There was a fruit stand on the corner, and she had bought two peaches. Though she'd had an aversion to them for quite some time due to a nightmare she had experienced in her teens, lately they were the only thing she wanted to put in her mouth aside from a nice fizzy moscato and Alex's cock.

She really hoped Alex wasn't the reason she was here now. Following years of dating loser after loser, it would be just her luck to land a serial killer who preyed on brunette psych majors. Alex didn't fit any of the criteria for serial killers, but perhaps he was a new breed. Or perhaps Sarah wasn't quite as good at identifying those kinds of character traits as she had thought. Maybe it wasn't a serial killer thing at all, though. Maybe it was some kind of roleplaying game instead, where he pretended that she was a captured virgin soon to be sacrificed to some dragon or sea creature or other Harryhausen creation and came bursting in at the last second dressed in only lace-up sandals and a metal miniskirt. Whatever it was, she hoped he got on with it soon.

As if her captor had read her mind, a door opened across from her, letting in a bright, blinding light that forced her to squint as her eyes began to water. She could only make out a silhouette at first, but at the sight of it, her stomach knotted in terror.

"You're not real. I know you're not real." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she knew he had heard what she had said from the laugh he expelled.

"How soon we forget, Sarah, how soon we forget." The man stepped forth from the doorway and she saw his face, a sight she hadn't seen in years. She had changed, oh how she had changed, but he remained the same. His hair was still just as golden, his eyes still as blue, his lips just as pink with the tiniest hint of gloss…it was as if time had stood still as far as he was concerned. He even wore almost the same clothes—blue velvet jacket, tight gray pants and a frilly white shirt, though this time it was open nearly to his navel.

"I dreamed you. It was just a dream, my therapist said so." She shook her head as if to make him disappear.

"You should probably demand a refund, dear girl, because I promise you, I am just as real as you are." He smiled and stepped closer. "And oh, my dear Sarah, how real you have become." As he spoke, he reached out and caressed her face, his hand trailing down across her chest.

Her eyes closed and she could feel her chest beginning to flush. "Jareth," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. How she had dreamed of this moment, night after night, longed for it even if he wasn't real.

"Did that not feel real enough?" he asked, teasing her. "Perhaps you would like me to touch you again?" He didn't wait for her response, but placed his long, delicate fingers around her left breast, cupping it gently before moving to squeeze her already erect nipple. Sarah moaned and could feel herself growing moist against her control.

Jareth laughed, that same cruel sound that had haunted her dreams. "You're not too good for my advances now, are you my dove?" He stepped back, grabbing her chin roughly with right hand and looking deep into her eyes. "No, you've become quite the little harlot from what I can tell. It didn't take you long after leaving this place to give your first blow job, if I recall correctly. And of course, it wasn't long until that wasn't good enough for you. I mean, after all, what fun is a blow job for you? A shot in the face and a sore jaw—hardly worth the fuss at all."

"How dare you!" Sarah hissed, trying to wrench her head free from his grasp. "Were you fucking spying on me, you pervert?"

Jareth's eyes narrowed and he slapped her on the cheek hard enough to leave a handprint. "Oh, Sarah, the language you've acquired," he said, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "But I guess that's to be expected from a common street whore. Tell me, Sarah, how many men have you fucked since I let you go?"

"Fuck you," Sarah said, and spit in his face right between those beautiful, accusatory blue eyes. Jareth quickly made a matching print on her other cheek.

"I suppose I deserved that," he said, and laughed again. "A man should never ask a lady how many conquests she has had, even if it is enough to man a naval destroyer."

"What the fuck do you want from me, Jareth?" Sarah hissed, pulling against her restraints.

"I want what I wanted the first time I ever saw you," he replied, his voice rising. "I want to touch you, to kiss you, to take your maidenhead and hear you cry out in beautiful painful pleasure when I do. But I can never have that now, can I? Do you even remember his name, Sarah? The first man to venture into your sweet demesnes, the first man you ever felt inside you, or did you forget as soon as he slipped the condom off and got dressed?"

"What about you, Jareth? Do you remember the first person you ensnared? The first human to feel the sting of your hatred? Or have we all become nothing more than playthings to you? How long does your love for your prey last once you have them in your claws?" Sarah did her best to remain defiant in the face of his abuse. "Who I've fucked is none of your business. You asked too much of me, and you changed everything I was. You don't get to own me. You don't get to own anyone."

"Sarah, I can do as I please," Jareth said, laughing again. "I am the Goblin King."

"And what does that mean outside this little realm, Jareth? I'll tell you what it means—absolutely nothing. This is the extent of your power and you know that."

Jareth got close enough to her that she could see the tiny imperfections in his skin. "You shut your fucking mouth!" he yelled, spittle flying onto her cheeks.

"Fucking make me," she hissed, and he grabbed her face and pulled it to his own kiss. His tongue entered her mouth urgently, moving as if it were a snake seeking heat. She guided it with her own, gently massaging it until it became more about pleasure and less about invasion. She could feel a heat building within her as they kissed, and came desperately close to giving in before raising her knee up to meet his bulging cock. It was a direct hit, and he fell to the floor groaning in pain and clutching his crotch.

"You fucking bitch!" he cried.

"You're just fucking lucky I'm restrained," she said, "or I would rip your goddamn throat out!"

"I'll make you pay for that, you goddamned slut!" Jareth said, rising to his feet.

"What are you going to do, Jareth? Roofie me with another fucking peach? You're so goddamned pathetic that you can't even get a woman to come near you without drugging her first."

"And you're so fucking stupid that you can't see that the only reason men want you is because they know you're an easy fuck," he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a rag and a bottle.

Sarah didn't even struggle when he covered her face.


	2. Sweet Revenge

And so we continue.

Again, I own nothing.

Sarah's head ached worse than before the next time she woke, and it was really no surprise when she found she had been moved. This time Jareth had tied her spread eagled to a bed, and honestly, Sarah knew before he had chloroformed her that this was where she would wake. After all, if he was going to take her, no way was he going to do it in any other manner than one that suggested his idea of romance, not to mention comfort.

"I see you're awake." Sarah turned to face the corner where the voice had emerged from, and saw Jareth in a blue velvet wingback chair, naked to the waist. His skin shimmered with a hint of glitter, and Sarah immediately saw what her sixteen year old self had desired and rejected in him all at once.

"No thanks to you," she said. "So let's get this over with."

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah," Jareth sighed. "How…clinical of you. Is that what college and psychology has done to you? Removed every ounce of romance from your soul?"

Sarah laughed, though her voice was hollow. "I've never considered rape fantasies romantic, Jareth."

Jareth looked genuinely hurt and taken aback at the mention of rape.

"Sarah, I have no intention of raping you. When I have you, you're going to want me. You'll be begging to feel me inside of you, screaming my name in ecstasy."

"Well we're off to a fine fucking start, wouldn't you say?" she said.

Jareth didn't answer, only stood and approached the bed, sitting gently beside her. Smiling, he bent his head down and barely brushed his lips against hers before moving down to nibble her neck. Sarah could feel her body start to betray her, heating at the touch of his lips on her cool skin. Her nipples hardened rough fabric of her shift, allowing the scratchy fabric to lightly caress the tender nubs.

Jareth sat up briefly, looking at her from beneath his eyelashes before ripping the shift open to reveal her body. "Your body, Sarah…so beautiful," he breathed, and for a moment she tried to see herself through his eyes: the milky white skin she had always thought too pale, the light dusting of freckles across her breasts and the sweet pink of her aureoles. She could see the tangle of dark curls below, and imagined his fingers slipping past them to her center. Then she couldn't think anymore, as Jareth had taken her right nipple in his mouth and was sucking and flicking it with his tongue.

She moaned, pulling at her restraints and longing to weave her fingers through his magnificent mane. He moved to her left breast, but maintained sensation in the right, tweaking the nipple with his long, elegant fingers. Sarah squirmed beneath his touch, arching her back slightly and biting her lip to keep from moaning again. A heat was building in her loins, and she knew that soon he would have her right where he wanted her. She wanted to resist, to keep from saying his name, from saying anything that might be construed as an invitation to fuck her. She was not going to let him win this, because she had a feeling that if she forced him to go beyond where he was willing to go, all the power would be hers, regardless of who was tied to the bed.

As he continued to suckle at her breasts, Sarah could feel herself growing wet, and knew it wouldn't be long before Jareth moved his explorations south. Her breathing was growing heavier and more erratic in spite of her efforts to control it. Jareth moved up to kiss her again, his tongue less insistent than before but strong and demanding nonetheless. He looked into her eyes and smiled as his hand traveled the length of her torso and found her core.

Sarah gasped as he caressed her folds, and Jareth laughed. He brought his hand up to his face, fingers glistening with her wetness, and slowly sucked the juices from them.

"You're delicious," he whispered, and moved his body down her own until his head came to rest between her thighs. For a moment they locked eyes, both almost daring the other to act. Then he flicked his tongue out and all was lost. Sarah's breath drew in sharply and she cried out, not words but animalistic grunts. It was the first time she had experienced such bliss, and Jareth was a master of his craft. He flicked and sucked at Sarah's clit, and she pulled harder and harder at her restraints, curling her fingernails into her palms until she drew blood. Pressure built within her like she had never known, and she was perilously close to approaching the edge of an abyss she had heretofore never explored.

Suddenly, Jareth sat up, winked at her as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, and walked out of the room. Sarah screamed at him, her words unintelligible, frustrated with the lack of completion. She could feel her sex throbbing with the aching need of release, and had no way to relieve herself. It was an agony she had never before imagined, and she could hear Jareth laughing as he walked down the corridor away from her.


End file.
